A Prayer Answered
by inhonoredglory
Summary: She found herself in their world driven to know one thing: Why? Why was she here? ::NOTICE: TWILIGHT ZONE ELEMENTS::


This story grew out of an idea that was had quite a bit of Twilight Zone/Tales of the Unexpected influence. Just a warning. Other than that, enjoy! This is my second original entry, so I'm still learning the ropes. Also, my apologies for any potential historical inaccuracies.

I do not own Hogan's Heroes or any of its characters.

* * *

**A Prayer Answered**

She went to sleep with the rosary in her hand. It was a trying delivery, it was a bitter cold night, and she was extremely tired. Her fingers fumbled with the black beads, and somewhere in her mind, she wondered if this baby would live – so many hadn't. She prayed for the doctor and her husband and for her child's future.

What would his future be, she wondered, as she slowly drifted away into unconsciousness.

Perhaps some day her prayer would be answered.

* * *

It was a strangely dark world – dark, moist, and cold. Like a cave . . . or a tunnel, she couldn't be sure. She suddenly felt out of place, out of time, out of her senses. But where was the doctor? The thought jolted her, and she realized it came from somewhere far away from her now – some other place, when she was somewhere else, maybe even some_one_ else.

And suddenly she realized she didn't know her name.

Then a light started bobbing towards her. Its glow was cutting to and fro above her, and from it, she could make out the cylindrical shape of the region before her. She was lying in a tunnel. Voices were coming now, and footsteps, shuffling.

She rose. Was it danger, were they friends?

Would it matter? She herself didn't know what side she was on, if there were any sides in this strange new world.

The light shone into her eyes. "Hey, Colonel, there's somebody here."

The light got closer. She blocked it with her arm, the rest of her body in the shadows.

"It's a woman!" The voice's owner came into view. His eyes were big, and his cap perched snugly on his head. "Gosh, ma'am, what are you doing here on the floor? I didn't know the Underground was sending someone over." He offered his hand.

She blinked and took it, saying nothing.

"Oh, sorry about the light." He shifted the flash upward, providing a faint ambient glow. His brown eyes looked at her again. "You're from the Underground, right?"

She wondered if she should nod or say nothing . . . or tell this boy the truth, that she didn't know.

But then he looked forward. "Hey, Colonel!"

Another man was coming up, dressed in leather brown and military cap with an eagle on it – a branch she'd never seen before. He looked at her quizzically, then at the younger man beside her.

"She was lying on the floor – next to the emergency exit."

There was a slight incredulous look in the dark brown eyes of this taller man, as unspoken thoughts ran behind them. "Who sent you?" he finally asked.

She shook her head.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't know." The sound of her own voice shocked her, and she gasped slightly. Who was she, where was she? Who were these people? "What's the date?" she asked, frantic at the sound of this strange language she spoke.

"Wait a second. What?" The man pushed his cap up.

"The date? What's today? What year is it?"

"How did you get here?"

"The year, I need to know the year." She was starting to plead with him.

"It's 1943, June 4, 1200 hours." Each word, emphatic and irritated. "What's the matter with you? Have you been drinking? And how did you get by the searchlights?"

"Nineteen-forty-three?" She couldn't even remember counting up that far. How did she get here? She looked down at her body in the tunnel's semi-darkness. It was clothed with a long, white nightgown, trim and pleated down the waist, long-sleeved and dainty. Her hands were pale and her feet, bare. She touched her hair; it was loose and tousled, and on her wrist a coil of beads slipped past her fingers, landing gently on the tunnel ground.

"Why are you dressed like that?" The taller man's voice came suddenly. The younger one turned to her. "Gosh, ma'am!"

"Here." The taller one removed his leather jacket, wrapped it around her shoulders, then stepped away. The younger one blushed and shone the flash away from her.

She huddled under the leather jacket, suddenly remembering some sort of code of decency. "Sorry."

"Maybe you'd like to explain yourself."

She looked at him, now as he crossed his arms across his pale shirt. "Who are you?" she cautiously asked.

"Look, let me ask the questions, okay? Why are you here?"

She was starting to shiver now, and she noticed the penetrating cold air. "Could we go somewhere warmer?"

"I asked a question."

"It's cold." Something of a cold night was coming back to her. It turned her stomach and made her eyes lock in fear. "Get me somewhere warm and bright. Please." She moved forward.

The tall man caught her and grabbed her arms. "Listen, you're not going anywhere until you tell me who you are."

Her frenzied eyes glared into his. She gasped. "I don't know!"

"Don't know what?"

"Who I am."

His grip loosened somewhat. "You don't know who you are?"

There was a pause as she looked into his eyes quietly. She felt something bitter move up her eyes and she fought back what she feared might be tears, but she knew he probably had seen the growing glaze in her eyes. "Could we please go somewhere warm?" she breathed, barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, well I don't know if I want to do that right now. Carter–" He addressed the younger man. "Get some blankets. Right away. And no one comes down here. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." Carter ran off into the darkness with the flashlight, leaving them in the faint glow of a single bulb hanging from the ceiling of the tunnel a few yards ahead of them.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again, slumping, as all energy seemed to suddenly drain from her.

He held her up. "That's all right." He wrapped his arms around her and tried to guide her forward. "Tell me, what do you remember?"

"Oh." She moaned and rubbed her eyes with her hand. "I don't know. I'm tired." She inhaled sharply. "Where am I?"

"I don't think I want to say right now."

She looked at him. "Why not?"

He stopped moving forward. "Do you know anything about the war?"

She blinked. Her head hurt having to play these puzzles.

"You might be on the other side. I can't divulge anything until I know more about you."

She slumped on his shoulder. She didn't care right now. A passive existence seemed to put the least amount of pressure on her tired mind. "I don't know much about you," she mumbled.

He sighed. "By now, you could tell I'm a colonel."

She looked at him, then at the jacket on her shoulders. There was a callous patch on the left-hand side. "Robert E. Hogan," she read.

He sighed irritatedly. "Looks like you're going to be staying with us awhile."

* * *

By the time the younger one – Carter, she remembered – had come with the blankets, Colonel Hogan had set her down on a thin wooden bench in a wider room of the tunnel. There was a ladder going up beyond the ceiling of the tunnel and in the corner, a strange apparatus with a chair behind it. She couldn't make out what it was.

The blankets wrapped around her, and she huddled in their warmth. Carter patted them gingerly around her. "You feeling better now, uh, ma'am?"

She smiled and nodded slightly. Carter smiled back shyly and inched towards Colonel Hogan, who was standing to her right. "You know who she is, Colonel?" he said, apparently trying to whisper it under her range of hearing.

"No, Carter, something's wrong with her head. I haven't the faintest idea how she got here, but looks like she's a little confused." He patted the younger man's back. "Get my lunch from Lebeau, okay?"

"Who's Lebeau?" she asked. Colonel Hogan turned from Carter and sat down on the bench next to her.

"Miss, I have to ask you a few questions. Now, just try remembering. That a deal?"

She nodded and brought the blankets and his jacket tighter around her body.

"Do you know your name?"

She shook her head.

"Do you know where you come from?"

She replied the same way.

"Do you remember any kind of names or faces?"

She shook her head, then suddenly remembered. "The doctor."

"You know his name?"

"No."

There was a pause, and Colonel Hogan looked afar off.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He looked back to her. "Can you tell me anything about your life or how you found yourself here?"

She closed her eyes and tried to think. She could just feel a sort of darkness, a sort of intangible premonition. That was all she could remember. Dark, night, cold, evil. Where did the doctor fit in? Or the baby? "The baby!" she cried out, opening her eyes. "Something about my baby."

"Running away to save your child?" Hogan suggested.

She slumped back and shook her head. "I don't know."

He was starting to look impatient.

A shuffling sound emerged from the ladder and a short man jumped down from it. He was wearing a little red cap and around his neck was thrown a dull red scarf.

"I thought nobody suppose to come down here, except Carter?" Hogan asked, a little irritated.

"I'm sorry, _mon colonel_," the little man said. "I just had to see our new friend." He looked at her. "_Mon ami._" He gave her a little wave and smiled.

"Hello," she said. "Are you Lebeau?"

"_Oi_," he said, handing Hogan a bowl and rubbing his hands together. "And you, _mademoiselle_?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Hogan cut in.

"So what Carter said was true? Oh, _mon ami_, you need a friend in this time of great trauma." He snuck in next to her and kissed her hand.

"Would you get out of here?" Hogan threw his arm towards the ladder. "I'm trying to figure things out."

"Okay, okay." He slunk away and muttered something under his breath towards Hogan.

"Lebeau," Hogan snapped at him.

"I'm going, I'm going." He jumped up the ladder and disappeared.

Hogan turned back to her. "You said something about children."

But she was looking around the little room, at the jutting tables and benches along the hard-packed walls. The wooden beams supporting this underground fortress, the long, complicated wires roaming around a square table, a small stack of books on one table, and the maps, compass, and pencils beside them. The books attracted her, and she started to stand up.

Hogan pulled her back onto the bench. "You might want to sit down a bit longer. I don't think you're ready–"

She came back to the present. "Oh, okay."

"Here." He ladled the spoon in his bowl and brought it to her lips. "It's not caviar, but it'll get you through." He smiled.

She took it willingly, noticing the empty feeling in her stomach. She had a sudden urge to know what these men were doing here, and how they related to the great scheme of things. "What is your mission here?" she asked suddenly.

Hogan dropped the spoon in the bowl.

She said something wrong and she knew it.

"I'm sorry. I just had to ask. I don't know anything. Really, I don't know what I said wrong."

Hogan stood up and placed the bowl on the bench next to her. He walked over to the ladder, eyes still on her, and called up. "Kinch, Carter, come down here."

There was a shuffling, then Carter and a black man came down the ladder. "What is it, Colonel?" asked the latter, eyeing her slightly.

"You told Kinch about her?" Hogan asked Carter.

"Yes, sir."

Hogan addressed Kinch. "Get on the radio to London. Ask them if someone knows about us or if the Underground spotted anyone matching her description. Five-foot-six, light brown hair, brown eyes, small frame, daring . . . a great actress."

She felt him look down on her hotly. "I'm not acting. Why would I be acting?"

Kinch moved away into the seat behind the apparatus, while Hogan bent down into her face. All the care in his eyes had disappeared. "You know more than you're letting on, and you're playing some crazy game so you can go tell your friends about us. Isn't that right?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Listen, miss, you can let it go now. Who sent you and how much do you know?"

"I told you! I don't know who I am or even why I'm here. I don't even remember this year or yesterday. You've got to believe me."

"Why?"

She smushed the blankets around her and held her head, that bitter feeling in her eyes coming on again. "Colonel Hogan, you can ask me anything you want and you can keep me here for however long, and you can never let me see the light of day ever again." She looked up at him. "All I want to know is why I'm here. That's all. If I said anything that indicated that I was your enemy, then I'm sorry. I'm not. I'm nobody's enemy; I'm nobody's friend." The tears finally choked out and fell into Hogan's jacket. "I'm sorry."

Carter rushed to her side. "Oh, don't cry, miss. Please don't cry."

Hogan sighed and turned to Kinch. The black man shook his head and whispered, "Sorry, Colonel. They don't know her – neither side, as far as we could tell."

Hogan nodded and walked up to her. "You're off the hook for now. I'm sorry if I upset you." He sat down next to her and took the bowl in his hands. "But you have to realize a man in my position has to be careful."

She nodded, not really knowing why, and wiped her eyes.

He handed her the bowl. "Have some food. I'm sure you're hungry."

She forced a smile. "Thank you."

* * *

She spooned the last of the soup and placed the bowl down beside her. Hogan and Carter had gone off towards the emergency exit, probably to see if they could pick up something about her, leaving her with Kinch and the dark interior. Her eyes moved over to the stack of books, still drawn to them. She jumped up quickly and spread them out on the table.

"Looking for something?" Kinch asked, getting up from the chair.

"Oh, I don't know." She inspected each cover meticulously. One stood out particularly. It had a familiar name on it and it frightened her somehow. She brought the book close to her heart and skipped quickly towards the ladder. She had to see outside, to know everything about this name and this person.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kinch asked, jumping up and grabbing her arm.

"I, uh, wanted to go outside."

"You better not move without the Colonel's permission."

"Then I'll wait here and you go ask him."

Kinch looked at her suspiciously. "Can I trust you?"

She sighed. "Please hurry." She leaned against the ladder rung and looked nauseous. She felt bad about acting to him.

Kinch let her go and turned, calling for Hogan. In a flash, she climbed the ladder with her free hand and popped out the top, finding herself in a meager room of rickety bunks and a thin table in the center. There was only one person there, wearing a blue uniform and mumbling to a layout of cards in the center of the table.

She leaped out of what looked like a bed – she didn't dare think too hard about what was happening, Kinch might catch up with her – and ran towards the man, snapping her fingers at him. He looked up at her, totally taken aback. "Good 'eavens!" he gasped. "Are you the bird—?"

"Please come with me." She was breathless and ran towards the door at the far end of the room, behind a rusty iron stove. She grabbed his arm on the way. "Please hurry!"

"Goodness, love, you got the guv'nor's say-so to be runnin' around like—?"

She took his arm and threw him into the room, locking the door behind them. The poor fellow almost fell over, then grabbed the desk in the room. "What's got into you?" he gasped.

"I have to know right now – who is this man?" She pointed frantically to the name on the cover of the book.

"You don't know? Now it's definite you're crackers."

"They wouldn't tell me anything and if I don't ask you now, I'll never know."

"Goodness, lady, where you've been all this time? That's the madman himself!"

"Huh?"

The knob shook and she grabbed it. "What's going on?" came Hogan's voice from the other side, along with a ruckus of other voices.

"This bird's looney, sir!"

"Please!" she called out. "I'm sorry, but I have to know what's happening."

"Now you listen. Open this door this minute, and that's an order!"

"But I—"

"Newkirk, get this door open and don't let her get away."

Newkirk stepped towards the knob and fought her hands for it. "Please, stop!" she wailed.

"I'm really sorry, love. Colonel's orders."

She let go of the knob, dropped the book, and grabbed his lapels. "Please, just tell me now. What did this man do? Who is he? Why is he a madman?"

Newkirk creased his brows. "Don't you know? He started this whole war."

"One man?"

The door burst open and Hogan whirled to face them, accompanied by several other men. "Now listen, lady, I've put up with your behavior long enough."

"Is it true – what this man did? Did he start a war?" She eyed the book on the floor.

Hogan followed her eyes. "How did _Mein Kamph_ get here?" He looked at Newkirk.

"Search me, sir."

"Answer me!" she cried.

Hogan stepped around Newkirk and took her arms. "Lady, you're acting crazy." He pushed her to the bottom bunk in the room. Her mind was starting to run in circles. Something terrible had happened in her life, she knew, but what exactly, she couldn't point out. How did this madman they spoke of, how did he fit in? Somehow, she knew he did. She let Hogan lay her down on the mattress, not fighting anymore. He held her shoulders down gently. "Colonel?" She looked up at him.

"Yeah, what?" He didn't look like he was quite ready to let her go.

"I'm sorry."

He sighed irritatedly. "Save your sorries until after you explain why we shouldn't send you to the looney farm."

"I can't explain. I can't explain anything."

"I've heard that story before."

She was feeling so tired, so weak. She wanted to rest. "Please, let me rest. I won't do anything rash, I promise."

Hogan didn't let her go.

"I just need to rest."

Hogan turned sideways to slightly face the four men in the room. "Newkirk, lock the window. Carter, guard the door so Schultz doesn't get wind of this. Lebeau, you got a spare belt?"

"What for, _mon colonel_?"

"I don't trust her."

"Colonel, you don't need to do that." She squirmed. "I won't run away."

Hogan looked into her eyes.

"You can stay right here next to me if you want. Please, I'd rather have that than, than the belt."

He sighed. "Okay." He pulled up the chair, twisted it around, and sat down. He crossed his arms on the backrest. "You want to start explaining a few things?"

"I told you. I want to rest." She closed her eyes, feeling really tired now.

There was a silence for a while. She breathed slowly in and out. Random pieces of her thoughts were organizing themselves into some intangible vision. The _why_ of this whole thing was beginning to dawn on her. She needed to know why these men were against this madman. She needed to know that they were successful, that they were doing the right thing. Somehow, that was the solution.

But what was the problem?

"Colonel?" she whispered, almost drifting off to sleep. She felt his breath on her as he leaned near. "You and your men are working against this man, this Adolph . . . aren't you?"

"Of course. No one in his right mind would work for him."

She sighed and turned over, incredibly tired, almost asleep, and feeling just a touch of surreal something cloak over her.

"I think she's asleep now," came a faint voice.

"The Kommandant wants us, Colonel."

"Yeah, well, I guess we can leave her alone."

She clasped her hands together, and drifted away. A great dark consumed her consciousness, and she felt herself no more.

* * *

The housemaid opened the shades of her bedroom window. She blinked tightly, almost awake, and thought that somehow she had a dream, but she could barely remember it. For a brief moment, she almost forgot her name. But then she saw the little wooden crib up against her bedside and her husband nodding off in the chair by the bed. The doctor had left last night. She remembered something about the baby being very weak and that he'd be lucky to live to a reasonable age.

She sighed.

Her hands were clasped together. Her rosary was gone, strangely, but she whispered a quick prayer anyway. She prayed for the child, for her husband, for people she just met – the doctor, the midwife, Robert E. Hogan— Who? She prayed that his mission be blessed. But what was she saying? Wherever did she pick up that name?

She called her husband.

He awoke quietly. "Ja, Klara?"

She asked him if prayers for people she didn't know would be answered.

He told her to ask the priest; he didn't know.

She blinked and turned to her baby, asking her husband what he chose to name him.

He grunted. "Adolph."


End file.
